


Mortis

by TeethVomit



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Confusion, Depression, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeethVomit/pseuds/TeethVomit
Summary: Silence is more often than not, the best form of companionship.
Relationships: Claudette Morel/Jake Park, Dwight Fairfield/Max Thompson Jr. | The Hillbilly
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Purgatory. That was all this place was, all it ever would be. A repetitive cycle of testing the limits of both body and mind. To see what choices would and could be made and the outcome it would provide. Positive or negative, it didn't matter. They all ended up back at the start, surrounded by the warm glow of a campfire and the ever lurking presence of the Fog. Curling and rolling around the edges of one's line of sight, waiting. Patient. Even if it was a manifestation of one's anxiety and curiosity, it still gave way to opportunities to explore far beyond the reach of the fire's warm and safe grasp.

And for one such a person, they took every and any opportunity to leave that ring of protection and explore the depths of the Fog, eyes scanning the surrounding area with every light footstep he took. Ravens and crows alike watched with beady black eyes, the sentries of the Entity herself, as the man stepped over a fallen trunk of a tree that must have fallen ages ago, or recently. Purgatory had no sense of time, robbing the survivors and killers alike of a sense of moving forward. Instead, a repetition of the same day, over and over, started to whittle away at their minds. But this one... This one seemed to be unfazed by the concept of time. He had hardened himself to the harsh elements of the outdoors, conditioned himself on survival and survival alone. A strict rule was to help yourself before anyone else. And it was rare he had to help someone else. Not by the goodness of his heart, no. Because in order for him to survive, _they_ needed to survive.

The Entity knew this one's name. Jake Park. She heard it uttered by the others at the campfire, their eyes glancing at the weather hardened survivalist. The man of silence. He barely uttered a word to the others whenever they would ask him a question or offer something to him. A small scrap of food they scavenged. Some parts for him to use to dismantle a hook or bear trap. He was tight lipped and for good reason. Being too confident and cocky cost you your position and safety. And he wasn't about to become a new favorite toy to dangle on a meat hook for a thirsty hunter. No, he worked alone. And it would stay that way.

The Fog swirled around his ankles, up his sleeves and caressing the nape of his exposed neck. The man hardly gave a shiver, his eyes focused on moving forward and keeping an ear out for anything that tipped him off. So far, the coast was clear and empty. Nothing stirred and nothing made a sound, apart from the Entity's feathered pets. Wings ruffled, beaks clicked and throaty calls and laughs would break the silence. Curious beings, they hopped from branch to branch, watching him as he paused by a rather thin tree. His hand gripped the girth of the trunk, his eyes looking around with caution before he would glance at the ground, being careful not to slip on the rock that was placed there. Silence and chatter soon started to become muffled, the air getting damp as the Fog was no longer just on the ground, but all around him. It wasn't like any trial grounds he had been on, this wasn't Fog, it was mist.

Heavy and steel toed work boots quietly clapped as they would be placed on stone after stone, maneuvering himself downwards and towards the evident proof that there was running water. A spring, complete with a good eight foot waterfall. Where the waterfall started, it was hard to tell. But Park had seen something similar to it before in his own neck of the woods. It was more or less an underground spring that emerged outside, soon pooling at a calm and good sized pond, no smaller than a lake. Again, his eyes scanned the area, the noise of the waterfall's gentle roar drowned out the sentries to a muffled whisper. It was a risk Park was wiling to take, finger-less gloved hands moving to glide over the surface of rocks, descending to the pool.

This wasn't the first time he had been here. He discovered it on accident. But it was a welcomed accident. It was a place for him to reconnect with his detached mind and emotions. A place to center himself. The campfire wasn't his forte, the constant chatter of the other survivors made his mind swim with much unneeded noise. But here? It was white noise and the small area was his alone. He saw no proof that anyone else had been here, no fresh tracks and disturbed foliage. No, it was his sanctuary and his alone. He wasn't keen on sharing it with anyone else now or in the future. The only exception were the sentries and the Fog, the Entity keeping her eyes on her silent survivor.

It was rare for a survivor to stay outside of the proximity of the campfire for more than a few mere minutes, since the Entity had no control over who could leave and come. But she had a law that if they were to encounter some of the less desirable company of her fog ridden realm, they were not allowed to slaughter. That was saved only for the trials, and if such a thing happened, punishment would be due. And her punishments were not to be taken lightly. So far, no one had dared to test her hold on them, and for good reason. To them, the Entity was God. Given opportunities otherwise they would never have. Slaughter without consequence, kill and maim in whatever way they pleased. Excitement of the hunt and feast.

Jake Park had settled down at a small ledge clearing, loose dirt and sand shifting under his boots and weight. One leg held by his hands, fingers intertwined, the other folded under. His chin on his knee, eyes staring at the jumping droplets that splattered the stones. It was cold here, the mist thick and sticking to the beanie the survivalist wore. It would become damp in no time, and that would be his cue to leave. Sentries were unable to navigate the mist, their sight not made for such blind flight. So they settled in the surrounding area, several enjoying the mist bath given while others nestled in the canopy, watching for signs of approaching survivors. Or hunters.

The survivalist knew he wouldn't be able to find his way out of the Fog. He had walked for what seemed like hours, only to return to the ring of light, survivors confused as to how he appeared there when he clearly went the opposite way. He had learned that when an area started to become dense with fog, he was reaching the edge. If he walked through it, he would end up walking a loop. An endless loop. He had even come across familiar sights, sights that made the hairs on his neck stand on end, his veins prickling with electricity. The decomposing bodies of cars was his first clue that he was in the scrapyard, a favorite haunting ground of the invisible man known only as "Wraith". Some called him Ghost, a more fitting name, but it didn't instill fear like Wraith did.

He learned from then to steer clear of thick walls of fog, knowing very well he could wander right into the silhouettes of hunters. Bear traps were another concern, he didn't know where they would be, so he never ran when he was out here. He didn't need to sustain an injury that the Entity wouldn't heal, unless it was sustained in a trail.

His head picked up, face damp and slightly clouded with dirt and sand. Black eyes stared hard into the mist, his ears slowly tuning out the roaring waters and instead, focused more on his heart that beat a steady rhythm against his chest. Once he had a sense of dread, his heart rate started to pick up, telling him it was time to leave, someone was coming.

Learning a skill from another of the survivors at the fire, he crouched low and started to navigate back the way he came, tucking his chin into the collar of his red flannel. His ears picked up something being kicked over. A pebble? Whatever had kicked it, he wasn't in the mood to go toe to toe against the other. He had to get out of here before he was spotted. He climbed his way back the way he had came, testing each stone and ledge before he would ascend. Pausing only to listen to try and get an idea to where the mystery person could possibly be.

He had to press himself into a small crevice once he heard his heartbeat hammer into his chest, his eyes staring upwards as a blurred shadow emerged. He couldn't make out the shape of the figure, but he held his breath, despite the waterfall's roars muffling every sound. Faintly, Jake Park could hear the crows and ravens squawk in distaste for the figure interrupting their solitude, causing a ruckus which gained the attention of the figure. Pressed still against the wet stones, the shadow receded and his heart eventually quieted down. But he stayed against the small space, waiting a good few minutes before pulling away and continuing his way up the side.

On solid ground, his beanie and vest lightly soaked, his eyes scanned around. He had some knowledge of some of the hunters having a way to suppress the feeling of creeping fear by standing still. But it didn't help that he still had a sense of dread as he gathered himself onto his feet. Wiping his dirtied palms onto the front of his pants, he decided that now would be better than never to return to sanctuary. Fists balling, he still felt that electrical tingle along his spine, but willed himself to stay focused. Stay moving forward. As he navigated the Fog, the sentries watched, their eyes hard and clouded. The Entity was no doubt curious about her silent pawn.


	2. Chapter 2

Jake Park crossed the threshold that protected the survivors from prying hunters, those that lurked just at the fog's edge. The campfire was a sanctuary and off limits to any and all hunters. The Entity didn't like that her pawns could and would be slaughtered like lambs if they weren't guarded. What would be the fun in the trials if she had no contestants? As the fog dragged it's ghostly fingers along his arm and ankles as he crossed, Jake shivered. He never liked the feeling he got whenever he was alone. But he kept telling himself that it was nothing, just an animal or something watching him. Not some... otherworldly and invisible force that could control the very fabric of purgatory and played with their lives like dominoes.

His eyes were drawn to the warm colors of the campfire, the brightness completely out of place in this dull and dark world. Logs surrounded the pillar of fire, a couple of other pawns were scattered around the campfire, usually talking among themselves, sleeping or just staring into the warmth before them. Jake usually never sat with anyone, he couldn't stand most of them. But there was always two he liked to sit with. They weren't loud or annoying, they didn't ask too many questions and they were kind individuals. He taught them what he knew, and they did the same for him. They stuck together, a small flock of ravens.

Jake sat down beside a woman, dark skinned and quiet, her hair a bit messy, but otherwise tucked up into a bun. Just as dark as her eyes, but they were warm, like melted chocolate. Her smile was soft, quiet. Not wide and showing too much teeth, just a gentle one that reminded Jake of his mother. She wore close to what he did, some red plaid and jeans with boots. A colorful, but dull, headband held back her bangs as it often got in the way during chases. Her name was Claudette Morel, and she taught him everything there was to do with first aid. When the Fog didn't offer much in terms of first aid supplies, she was diligent and showed him how to make the best of what they had. Sometimes it wasn't much, sometimes it was too much. But he respected the quiet and shy botanist.

On her other side, Jake leaned forward slightly, arms crossed on his knees as he silently greeted the man. Dwight Fairfield. Jake learned quickly that he was a mess, a bundle of tangled nerves. A nasty habit of him biting his nails led to many scoldings from the woman between them. But could they really blame the shy and nervous man for being so intimidated by the world they were put in? His hair was a mess, his glasses thick, lenses most likely scratched here and there, but it didn't seem to be that big of an issue, the man having not said a thing about it. He wore a hoodie that seemed a little too big for his small frame, but he learned that it helped calm his nerves. Something big and heavy to lose yourself inside of, a turtle shell of sorts. It was like Jake's scarf, which he stashed somewhere safe, that held the familiar smells of the woods he once called home. Dwight's pants were scuffed up and dirty, shoes just the same. He taught Jake how to work with others, much to his dismay. But he found out things went just a little bit faster when you worked with another.

The three usually hardly spoke if there were others around, more just keeping to silent conversation and leaning against one another for mutual support. Post trials were rough other times and one would often break. The three would huddle together and try to comfort each other, quieting hiccups and wiping tears. And when they got the chance, they would curl up in the glow of the campfire and rest. Mind and soul needing mending just as much as the body.

"Hey, J-Jake." Dwight would stutter. Jake couldn't blame him for being a little frightened, even if they were safe. Jake responded with a lift of his hand, fingers moving slightly in a small wave. Claudette smiled at the two of them before she turned her attention to Jake.

"You're back early. You're usually gone longer." Claudette would say, Dwight giving a small nod in agreement. She was right, Jake was usually out until the next trial, then he would lurk around the other two before retreating. Rinse and repeat. Jake turned his gaze away, unable to make eye contact. It just wasn't his thing. All he could see was his father's expression of disappointment. It didn't set well with him. And the two knew it, so they often didn't try to initiate it.

“Someone was out there.” Jake would say, his voice soft and gentle, quiet for a man that lived alone in the outdoors for years. Claudette’s brows furrowed, seeming a bit concerned and shocked at the same time. Dwight’s biting intensified at that and he swallowed thickly.

“Did they see you?” Claudette would ask, her voice a low whisper to avoid attention being brought to the three of them. Dwight was listening, his eyes wide and focused on what Jake would say next. He hoped he didn’t get caught. He didn’t like it when survivors ran into the hunters. It was rare, but it happened. Jake shook his head in response, looking to the two of them who relaxed near instantly.

“I was at the waterfall. They didn’t see me through the mist. Couldn’t tell who it was, though.” Jake would explain to the two, who seemed to hang on every word. But they knew that Jake could handle himself. He was an expert, after all.

“I’m g-glad you weren’t s-s-spotted…” Dwight would stutter, his fingers against his lips as he chewed nervously. It was a habit that Jake wished he would stop, it wasn’t healthy. There were many occasions when he would have to clean up his bloody fingers and wrap them up to prevent him from damaging them further. But he always seemed to just go right back to it the moment the gauze was removed. Thankfully, Claudette was there to lend a helping hand, moving to take his fingers out of his mouth. She held it in a reassuring grip, a small smile on her lips before she returned her attention to Jake.

“We’re both glad you’re okay, Jake. I wonder why they would wander so far from their grounds.” Claudette would whisper softly, keeping the conversation between them as another of the survivors passed where they were seated. They didn’t need to raise an alarm, that the hunters were roaming around outside of their normal haunting grounds.

“Who knows, but I-I’m glad that they didn’t find Jake.” Dwight would add in as he looked to Jake, worry apparent on his face. Jake looked away, but he had a small smile form on his lips. He appreciated that the nervous man cared. And that Claudette cared too. They were the ones he could trust and cold even call friends.

“I’ll be okay. As long as I hear them first, they won’t be able to find me.” Jake would say to try and ease the man’s worries. It helped somewhat, the man’s shoulders relaxing from what he could see in his peripheral vision. Claudette would give Dwight's hand a gentle squeeze and a nod in agreement to what Jake had said. She believed him. He was seasoned in survival, after all.

"Regarding what happened, you should get something to eat and some rest. You never know when you'll be pulled into trial." Claudette would point out, making Dwight grimace and sigh heavily. Jake let out a softer sigh. She was right, it was hard to know when you would be swept off into the fog to play a game of cat and mouse. Claudette soon let go of Dwight's hand as he got up, legs a little wobbly from sitting for so long, that and holding his breath when he didn't need to. He was just a bundle of nerves and anxiety. The embodiment of how all the survivors were feeling. Dwight shuffled off to find some canned fruits that the entity had graciously given them. Mostly nonperishable, but sometimes there would be something fresh thrown in.

Once the two were alone, Jake moved to lean against Claudette, his eyes closing briefly as he let out a shaky breath. The dark skinned woman turns her head towards the saboteur, a bit confused at the sudden contact, but she smiles. She doesn't have a reason to be concerned when it came to Jake Park. He was strong and someone to look up to. But to see him be vulnerable? Unheard of. Without much of a word, she moves her arm to hook with his, fingers gently stroking his arm as he stayed leaning against her.

"What's on your mind, Jake?" Claudette would whisper, her eyes watching the other's face for any subtle giveaway to what he was thinking. Usually, his face was blank, stone faced and straight. Very subtle movements could be picked up if one watched closely. A twitch of an eye, lips parting slightly to let out a held breath, the clenching of his fists... Things that a trained eye could pick up. Claudette didn't have quite the trained eye, but she could feel emotions rather than see them. She was... Different. Jake didn't respond to her question, so she didn't push it further. Her fingers gently lacing together as Jake leaned against her, cheek pressed against her shoulder.

Jake had a lot on his mind, one was the fact he was almost found out at the waterfall. Another was Claudette. How lucky he was to have met someone like her. The gentle botanist with a heart of gold. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he had feelings towards the woman that held his arm. Strong feelings of trust. That he could tell her anything that was bothering him. Even if it was just little nick picky things, things that irked him. She was patient and listened, never saying anything. He really did owe her so much, but he just didn't know how to repay her back. Did he even have to?

Instead, he just stayed where he was, eyes closed and listening to Claudette breathe lightly, the crackle of the fire nearby, the hushed conversations of the other survivors. It was enough to send him into a light doze, added with the warmth of the woman he had fallen for.


End file.
